


Never Alone

by thefalloftheauthor (egosoffire)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9826544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egosoffire/pseuds/thefalloftheauthor
Summary: For the femtropebingo on tumblrMolly and Irene in a post Zombie Apocalypse world. Surviving, but never alone.





	

When it had all started, Irene had been sure that Molly was going to be taken from her. She wasn't weak, not at all, but she hadn't learned the survival skills that Irene had. How could she defend herself against them? She didn't know how to fight, because she'd simply never had to. 

Yet, she had seen something blossom in Molly during the first couple of months. It was right after Sherlock had lost John. John's death had spurred something in Molly, a fighting spirit. A need to keep going, to keep them at bay and to continue surviving. Something hardened in her face, and she joined Irene to lead the band.

"How did the scouting mission go?" Irene asked Molly, as the woman arrived back at the compound. The "compound" was a bunker, a safehouse that Irene used to have in an equally but differently dangerous life. There were twelve people living there, fourteen if they included themselves, and Molly and Irene were undisputed leaders. "Is everyone okay?"

"It was just me and Alyssa," Molly said, running a hand through her hair. "We're both alive and we found a few things, but it wasn't enough."

"It's never quite enough."

Molly nodded and then walked across the room, sitting down on one of the worn couches at the center. She ran a hand over her hair. She had cut it short like every other reasonable person who'd previously had long hair, and it was a mess, hanging in her eyes. She looked utterly exhausted. Irene joined her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked tenderly, leaning over and touching Molly's forehead. She'd come down with a bit of a cold the previous week. Most their bunker had. "Better?" At least Molly wasn't warm anymore.

"Yeah," she said with a faint nod. "I do..."

Irene leaned over and put her arm around Molly. She had never been an exactly cuddly person before the world had ended, but she had always thrived underneath the physical. She needed to be loved, to be taken care of and to take care of people. She needed a solid body against hers -- although sex was hardly a priority anymore. Love was more important. 

Molly held onto Irene tightly. Her hand on Irene's left arm was tight enough to hurt. "Do you ever think about the ones we lost?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "I think of them all of the time. My boss at work, John...Sherlock."

"Holmes isn't dead yet," Irene said. "I don't believe that." 

"He hasn't made contact in three months, love," Molly whispered. "I don't believe he's alive anymore."

"I believe in him," Irene said, firmly. "I believe in him the same way I believe in you. If anyone can survive this world, it's him."

"He lost everyone he cared about," Molly said softly. "His parents are dead. His brother is missing and John died in his arms. He doesn't really have much to live for."

"Molly..."

Molly leaned against her shoulder. "If I lost you I'd go too," she whispered, the words delicate. "I think about it all of the time. It's my every nightmare, the thought of you dying, of one of them getting you..." 

"I'm not about to leave you," she huffed, shaking her head. She knew that the life expectancy of the average human had gone way down since the outbreak, but she and Molly were not average people anymore. "I love you."

No sooner had they started kissing, then did the alert go off. 

"Damn it," Irene murmured. "Let me take care of this one."

"Alone?" Molly asked, pulling the gun out of bag. She headed out to the front of the compound and before Irene could even catch up had already fired two rounds into the nearest dead person. "Never."


End file.
